Page 89 of Veradel

With a shriek of frustration, I lob both vampire hearts toward the fire spreading from rooftop to rooftop. They sizzle on contact, crumbling toash, but the satisfaction of successfully eliminating two more vampires never comes.

Not when our friends, our family, ourpeople, are still in danger.

“Odette!” a panicked, fatherly voice calls from the throng of people surrounding us, and snaps Lucan and me back to the present moment as the girl’s parents push to the front. “Come back here right now.” His eyes stay trained on Lucan, untrusting, wary, and scared.

When Odette shakes her head defiantly, her mother shrieks, “He’s the Monster, Odette! Getawayfrom him!”

Murmurs travel across the crowd, and Lucan swivels his head, trying to pick out voices from the sea of faces.

“He’s not the Monster. He’s just a man.”

A few women sigh. “Agorgeousman.”

“No, didn’t you just see him change? He’s a Monster with claws and teeth and fur!”

“I don’t see claws or teeth or fur.”

“Because he’s tricking us, somehow. It’s an illusion!”

“No, he’s just a human. Butshehelped him!”

“Yeah, she’sdefinitelynot human. She clawed out both of their hearts!”

“Good. The Guardians deserve to die after what they’ve done to our Chosen Ones.”

Some people are shuffling backward, trying to get away from us. Others are pushing their way forward to try to see the Monster with their own eyes.

I lace my fingers through Lucan’s, both of us unsure how to start—how to explain. The chaos around us intensifies like a wave of uncertainty, all of their varying voices like an explosion of flames crackling at the sky.

“Can they be trusted?”

“They might just kill us, too!”

“Or they might save us.”

“We have to save ourselves.”

“No, remember what happened when we tried to do that last time?”

This is nothing like the polite greetings carefully echoed back and forth each morning and night like we’ve always been taught. These are personal opinions. Unsolicited questions. Disagreements. Thinking. Engaging. Trying to change.

Despite the fact that Lucan and I are getting the brunt of it, my heart swells with painful pride to see how far Xantera has come.

And then a voice I’d recognize anywhere speaks up.

“We’ve seen the truth! We know that the Guardians have been lying to us for centuries about what happens to our Chosen Ones. We know they steal our blood under a false premise.”

Malcolm steps out of the mob, passes Lucan a curious glance, and gives me the smallest smile before turning to address the crowd again.

“So why would we believe anything they’ve ever said about the Monster?” His confident tone carries over the hushed whispers, and I catch Walter’s face, beaming from within the crowd. “Maybe we should decide if this so-called Monster is good or bad for ourselves.”

Some nod. Some shake their heads. Others continue staring at Lucan, as if determined to catch him shifting again. But none of them look convincedenough.

And Lucan is so, so quiet in the face of the people his grandfather used to rule. Frozen in the gazes of the people he has spent centuries trying to get to, trying to protect.

I squeeze his hand, and he sucks in a breath, snapping out of it. After a large swallow, he says, “I’m not here to hurt you. I know those are just words, and I know you’ve been lied to in the past. I know that my actions will be the only way to prove my truth.”

If the crowd was quiet before, now they’re not even breathing. Only the crackle of the rising flames permeates the night as the people of Xantera look upon their rightful king.